He picked me up in his dad's car and drove around without any idea of where we were to go.
There was a deepness in him that I wanted to fall into but I chalked it up to loneliness on my part.
We spent the first half a friendly distance and as the evening got colder and the rain got heavier, I let him hold my hand.
And he did so, without question, willingly for the longest time.
I made a joke that he was just using me for my warmth and so I wouldn't smack him but with the smoothness and innocence of untouched velvet he said he'd just never held hands so soft.
I was almost floored.
And he continued saying our hands just fit together, which they did.
I could barely think.
We left the car and walked in the rain and watched the sunset.
When we got back to the car we just hung around it, talking, laughing, making jokes.
And as the conversation got serious, he looked at me, tugged on my hand and said come here.
Then he held me; and there was a tenderness as much as there was an urgency, like I would disappear if he let me go.
That was when I couldn't help but let my guards down, when I let myself find comfort in his hold on me.
It's now the day after Christmas and I miss him already.